


Cursed

by AnselaJonla



Series: Prompt fills [61]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dragons, Fantasy, Gen, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Reddit Prompt, r/writingprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: A fic written for a prompt on the r/WritingPrompts subreddit:[WP] Your group of adventurers has finally slayin the dragon. But as you look around, you find no treasure hoard to loot. Only an ominous looking giant door further down the cave.
Series: Prompt fills [61]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1097823
Kudos: 2





	Cursed

The door was twice as large as even the greatest dragon ever sighted, made of iron with fixings of silver and gold. Great chains wrapped from corner to corner, side to side, and top to bottom, their links made of iron, silver, gold, and copper. The whole thing gleamed bright in the torchlight.

You move closer, clambering over the cooling body of the beast that has ravaged the countryside for so long. You had thought this a victory, but now you're not so certain. When you thrust your blade between its jaws, the sharp steel piercing up into its brain, you revelled in the joy of the kill and the treasure you were sure you'd claim, but now you see this door you're not so certain.

It looks nothing like a door that leads into a treasure chamber, but more like that of the furthest dungeon in the king's jail. It's a door that is designed purely to keep something _in_ , something far more dangerous than the occupants of the cell you formerly resided in.

You feel your sorcerer move up next to you, his light globe bobbing in the air next to him. You and he are the only survivors of the battle, the bodies of your other two companions lay broken and cold at the mouth of the cave where battle was joined. A brief command has the light growing in size and brightness, to illuminate the whole of the door, revealing that every inch is covered in tiny carvings.

You recognise the signs for danger, magic, and guardian. Such signs are still in use by thieves, to signal to those who follow. The sorcerer knows more, you reckon, and you turn to him for an explanation.

His brow is furrowed and his mouth moves soundlessly as he reads the many many lines of arcane text. His eyes scan over the ancient words. And then, suddenly, he pauses. His body stiffens, straightening from his permanent slouch.

The voice that comes from his mouth is not his own. Deep, resonant, and sounding like a score or more are talking at once, he begins to chant.

_"The Door must be guarded. The guardian must endure. When one falls, another shall take its place. Beware he who dealt the killing blow. The Door must be guarded."_

You press your blade to the sorcerer's throat. You're ready to drive it home when he sags backwards, whatever magic had him in its grip letting go of him.

You cautiously lower your blade. Whatever that codswallop was, a prophecy or whatever, it was probably meaningless. The dragon is dead. You're in no danger.

You turn to leave, ready to go and claim the fee the king promised. Now it only has to be split two ways, it sound even better than when you agreed to this venture. And of course there's no guarantee that your magical companion will actually make it back to claim his portion. Accidents _do_ happen after all.

A mere two paces from the door, you're doubled over by the worst pain you've ever felt. It's even worse than when you were branded a thief. Worse than being magically bound to this quest's completion. Worse than trying to defy said binding.

You barely feel your feet leaving the ground, or your body twisting and contorting in the air. All you can feel is _pain_. Unrelenting pain coursing through every fibre of your being. Every sinew is on fire, and you feel like you're being stretched on the rack.

Eventually the agony recedes, and your four paws are once more on the ground. You flick your wings in relief. And you turn your giant head to the gibbering human pressed against the Door. A quick gout of flame eradicates the annoyance.

You roar as you realise what has happened. What that treacherous king _knew_ would happen. Why else would he send an adventuring party made of _criminals_ , bound to the quest with magic to prevent their escape? And now you're bound even more surely, to guard a door that is a prison for something apparently even worse than any dragon could ever be.

Well, this _sucks_.


End file.
